Make way for the REAL Storm King.

Chapter 4
Doorway into darkness.

The wind whistled in my ears… and I felt fear.

I rolled my shoulders for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to get used to the extra weight that was pulling on them. When I asked the blacksmiths for a suitable set of armor, things almost ended in a fistfight when they all demanded to be the one who got to make it. They were all roughly of equal skill level, so the choice came down to personal preference. How did I solve this dilemma? Several hair raising rounds of Rock Paper Scissors. What? Not everything needs to be complicated.

That wasn’t the end of it though. Because I’m the Big Boss they insisted on making the armor more ornate. I kept having to shoot down all their suggestions. I mean come on, who really needs giant shoulder pauldrons with almost footlong spikes. This aint World of Warcraft people, that shit is heavy.

Eventually I will craft something both amazing and deadly. Something that will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies, when I’ve raised this island out of the middle ages. For now however I settled on a combination of studded leather and steel cuirass. Steel pauldrons of a practical size that left my arms with enough freedom of motion to effectively wield my spear, and some simple greaves and vambraces.

I went for mobility rather than full protection. Heavy armor is all well and good, but since I’m not an athlete nor accustomed to it, it would be a hindrance rather than an asset. It takes time and practise to get used to moving around in heavy plates of armor. Even just the cuirass felt restrictive, since it prevented me from bending too far forward.

The cold wind whipped me in the face, and I grabbed the railing tightly as the deck shifted slightly below me. From this height I could see hundreds of lights in the distance. Tiny orange pinpricks against an almost pitch black background.

“Campfires.” Greenscale grunted next to me, “sloppy; they will know we’re coming.”

“They knew we would be coming the second they decided to rebel. Besides, if we are to lay siege to the town, I’d rather have the troops warm, rested and ready instead of cold, miserable and strung out.”

I shivered as another gust of freezing air blew over me. Even the heavy fur traveling cloak couldn’t fully ward off the bitter cold at this height.

“How come you’re not freezing your ass off? Aren't you lizards cold blooded?”

“Some of the jungle dwelling lizards are, but me and mine, we’re descendants of dragon blood. Extremely hot or cold weather means little to us.”

“You really are one lucky fucker ain't ya?” I groused.

“Nah, if I was really lucky I’d be back home right now, on the rug in front of the fireplace, with two willing females sucking my…”

“And that’s enough of that! I need the image of you having sex stuck in my brain about as much as I need an extra hole in my head.”

“Is that envy I hear?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have no desire to lay with a girl who could be related to an Iguana.”

“Oh that sounds hot.” he replied with a smirk.

I did not dignify that with a reply. Choosing instead to descend the stairs to the main deck.

“When do we touch down?”

“A few hours before daybreak.”

We’ve all seen at least one or two movies where two medieval armies face off against each other. But those utterly fail to prepare you for the reality of just how big a full army on the field really is. Or how noisy it is, even at night. The snores of those who actually manage to find sleep despite their nerves. The sound of hundreds of blades being sharpened against whetstones all over the place by those who can not find sleep.

Here and there soldiers banded together for a game of chance. Dice were popular. Easy to carry, hard to damage, unlike cards. They gambled away the late hours before the dawn. Those officers that caught them turned a blind eye. Better that they gamble than let their nerves get to them and draw knives at each other. Some sat by the fire, half asleep, while others droned on about past battles or misadventures.

Some even had sex, alone or with a partner if they could find one. They tried to be as quiet as they could manage, but these tents did little to dampen the sounds. I noticed early that my fighting forces are mixed gender. I’m not bothered. They deserved one last release before they stared death in the face, come morning. So long as both sides were willing. I may be set on the path of evil, but I will not tolerate rape. Evil must have at least some standards.

At the center of camp stood a massive tent surrounded by a dozen legion banners. This was the command tent. I could see numerous shadows standing inside thanks to the lantern light. They were waiting for my arrival. Taking a deep breath I pulled open the flaps and stepped inside. Everyone was standing around a central table, quietly talking amongst themselves. They all slammed their breastplates in salute as they noticed my entry.

I returned their salute as a matter of respect before speaking. “If everyone is present I will get right to the point.” when no one spoke up I continued, “We have just a few hours until first light. I want to have the town surrounded before dawn breaks. Once they see we have them surrounded we will send a messenger to them with the demand that they choose a representative to parlay with us.”

“With respect, my king, is that really the best idea? If we merely wait for them we give them time to dig in.” Said one of the commanders.

“They know we’re here, hell, they knew we would be coming when this all started, they’ve already dug themselves in as best as possible. Waiting for them to parlay with us won’t give them any further advantages.”

They didn’t seem to have any further arguments so I continued. “The ships we arrived on didn’t just bring the last of the reinforcements. We also brought as many new weapons as the weight limit allowed. The crews are already unloading them for distribution. The majority of these consist of crossbows and bolts. I want the archers and crossbow troops at the front of our siegeline, backed up by melee troops with spear and shield to form a shieldwall should they decide to recklessly charge us. We have only hours before dawn, so let’s move out.”

If the camp at rest had been noisey, the whole army on the move was a cacophony. You could feel the ground shake slightly under the march of five-thousand pairs of feet, and the wheels of hundreds of supply carts. The creaking of their axles joined by the ringing chink of chainmail. The pounding of thousands of spear butts against the earth as the troopers used them like walking sticks. There was surprisingly little chatter, and I could only guess at what was going through their minds right then.

We marched for a good thirty minutes before the town came into view. Blackreef was a fishing town and thus was nestled up against the sea. According to the last tally it housed almost three-thousand people. Like everything else on this island its buildings were made of a hodgepodge of materials. Here and there you could see the ruined remains of an old brickwork defensive wall that once surrounded the town, but had long since crumbled into dust from lack of maintenance. The only thing still intact was the town gate. And it too had seen better days. The streets leading out of the town had been hastily barricaded using carts, barrels, boxes and whatever else they managed to drag over. I could see a rowboat sticking out from one such barricade.

My commanders barked orders, and the troops began to spread out to form a siegeline. It didn't take long before the town guards raised the alarm and bells started to toll. I watched as everything slowly unfolded. It all felt pretty surreal to me. Like it’s not really happening, and yet it was. I felt strangely calm, almost resigned. It took almost an hour before everything was in place, and by then the horizon had begun to glow a fiery orange. The sun would rise any minute. Mere moments ago I had dispatched a single unarmed messenger to demand a meeting between me and the mayor.

I stood waiting, flanked by Wedge and Biggs as the sun crested the horizon. In the first light of day I could see hundreds of nervous and angry faces peeking out from behind the barricades, and from inside windows.

“They sure is taking their time.” Biggs grunted.

“You wanna go in and get them?” I jokingly suggested, then realized I probably shouldn’t make such jokes because Biggs seemed to take it seriously.

“I think they heard you, sire.” Said Wedge, pointing at the gate where a trio of figures had appeared.

“About time.” Biggs grunted.

I took a deep breath and gripped my spear tightly. “Showtime boys.”

As we moved forward, banner of parley in hand, I felt my fear return.

The mayor of blackreef was a fish humanoid with the appearance of some freakish deep sea creature. His bodyguards were two of the biggest lizardmen I've seen to date. Both were built like a brick shithouse.

We came to a halt a few paces from each other. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I am Angler, mayor of the town of Blackreef. I demand you break up your army and leave us alone. We are part of the newly founded freedom alliance and we want nothing to do with you.”

He folded his arms dramatically and stared me down, having said his piece. It almost felt like a bad B-movie.

“I am the Storm King.” I began, but faltered when they started laughing. They actually laughed in my face.

“A thing like you? Get out of here.” said his bodyguard

“I met the Storm King once, you are not him.” Mayor Angler said.

“And thank fuck for that. If I was anything like that idiot I’d kill myself.” I groused. “However… what was once his belongs to me now. I am the new Storm King, and I can’t have your little alliance separating from the empire and causing me problems. This island has enough problems as it is without adding a drawn out civil war into the mix. I’m here to ask you to give up your arms and return to the fold.”

“Like Tartarus we will.” Said Angler. “We are free people, and we plan to keep it that way.”

“I guarantee you, things will be different. I have plans in the works that will make this island prosper. You will see that...”

“Fuck off. And take your grand plans with you. We will never bow to another tyrant again.”

“Don’t be rash, take a moment and think. You’re not soldiers. You’re citizens armed with stolen weapons. Most of them probably don’t even know how to swing them properly. I have your town surrounded, and my men outnumber you.”

“My men may not be soldiers, but each is worth ten of yours. We will fight!”

“I am offering you a way out of this situation that will benefit us both. Don’t be a fool.”

“All you offer are honeyed words, but we know they are laced with poison.”

“I urge you to reconsider. Think of your wives and children.”

“You threaten our children? Choke on your own blood!” One of his bodyguards shouted, drawing a hidden dagger.

He rushed straight at me, his eyes cold. “Die tyrant!” he screamed as he thrust the dagger forward, the blow aimed for the opening of my armpit.

I threw myself back at the last second thanks to the training I received from greenscale, twisting my torso in the process. The dagger scraped across my cuirass, actually drawing sparks before slicing through the padding of my undersuit and cutting into my arm. Thrown off balance, I hit the ground hard, scrambling backwards out of his reach. Wedge jumped forward, slamming his bulk into the would be assassin. Biggs grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me away from the melee.

The mayor and his remaining guard were running back towards the barricade. I could vaguely hear him screaming “kill them, kill them quickly.”

My heart hammered in my chest. I barely survived that. Rage was boiling up inside me as we made it back to our lines. A couple of arrows thudded into the ground near us, luckily their aim sucked. Wedge followed close behind us, the mayor’s bodyguard lay dead in the grass. His own knife buried in his neck.

“Fuck, why wouldn’t they listen to me? I was being reasonable, yet they rejected me outright.”

I could feel my own blood trickling down my arm, I could smell it in the air.

More arrows started to fly towards our lines, fired in an arc from behind the buildings and barricades. Their range fell well short of our lines. These guys were just firing blind. Their commanders must have jumped the gun, or someone panicked.

“My lord, let me see your arm.” said one of our field chirurgeons.

I held it out to him whilst trying to calm down. The adrenaline crash making me feel jittery.

“It appears the wound is superficial but it may need some stitching.”

“Am I in any danger of bleeding out?”

“No my lord, but..”

“Then it can wait. Just bandage it for now.” The moment he finished wrapping the cut, I spun away from him to address the troops “My brave soldiers! You all saw what happened. I gave them a fair chance to return to the fold, and they answered me with drawn steel. I will not give them another chance to return only for them to slit our throats while we sleep. First two rows, load crossbows and ready the shields! Archers, nock flaming arrows and burn that town to the ground! NO SURVIVORS!”

With those words the twang of a thousand bowstrings filled the air. Streaks of fire flew through the morning sky in a graceful arch, before descending on the town. A second volley followed shortly, and then a third, and a fourth. Those arrows that didn’t hit the rooftops vanished behind the buildings. Screams of panic and pain began to rise. The fire was already starting to spread. The thatch roofed buildings burned the quickest. The flames spreading easily. The wooden rooftops took longer for the flames to grab hold. The only buildings spared for the moment were the ones who had metal rooftops. But they would burn too as the fire spread.

From behind the barricades the militia returned fire, and this time their aim was better. A couple hundred arrows struck our lines. Most were caught on shields, but a few found their mark. I ducked behind one of the supply carts as arrows thudded into the wood.

“Shield wall, advance twenty paces. Crossbows follow behind, take down those archers at the barricades!” I shouted.

As commanders shouted to relay the order, the front of our line nearest to me began to move. Those troops carrying Pavise style shields took the front, forming a moving wall for the crossbow men to follow behind. Once in range they hunkered down, giving the crossbows a clear shot. Their much sharper thwacking sounds filled the air as bolts whistled towards their targets at great speed. Some of the steel tipped bolts punched clean through the rickety barricades. Cries of pain filled the air. More flame arrows flew overhead, landing deeper inside the town. Black smoke began to darken the skies.

“Signal the ships, begin phase two.” I said to one of my aides.

He nodded then blew a long series of notes on a horn. The sound was repeated by another hornblower down our ranks, and then another and another. Making its way back towards the camp.

The outer houses of the town were now fully ablaze. Forming a ring of fire around the town. Some of the militia abandoned the barricade in a futile effort to try and fight the flames.

“Close ranks and move in, twenty more paces. Keep the pressure on!” I bellowed. And the troops moved to obey.

Resistance at the barricades had been reduced to a minimum as they too had begun to catch fire. Those few militia brave enough to stay at their posts were soon brought down by crossbow fire. Here and there a few foolhardy souls leapt over the flaming barricades to charge at us with swords drawn. They barely made it a dozen paces before being riddled by bolts. All we had to do, for now, was wait and keep them contained.

Time passes strangely on the battlefield. When you’re under fire every second feels like an eternity, while a five minute lull in the fighting can feel like the blink of an eye. It makes it hard to keep track. I guess this is why generals usually don’t lead from the front.

Before I knew it the drone of our airships reached my ears as they arrived at the frontlines to begin phase two.

I had discussed this with the various ship captains the night before, just after my arrival at camp. If things went south, like they had, they would fly over the town in a cross pattern. Dropping burning oil and flaming arrows while they passed. Then they were to take up position over the water to blockade the harbor and sink any ships attempting to flee via the sea.

The fires were reaching their peak now. The roaring of the flames becoming an all consuming din. One of the first buildings to catch fire near my position collapsed, sending a ball of smoke and flame into the air. The noise of the collapsing structure momentarily drowning out everything else. Even the engines of the airship overhead.

As the ships began their grisly task, the sounds of distant panicked screams joined the cacophony. I tried not to listen. If I didn’t focus on something else my resolve would surely falter. A suitable distraction soon presented itself as over a hundred militia troops began pouring out of the town gate.

Nearly all of them were covered in soot, or in some cases splashes of blood. They charged our lines in a frenzy. A desperate suicide charge. The same thing was happening in other locations. Large groups of them were charging across the burning remains of the barricades to engage our lines. Crossbows sang in concentrated volleys. Downing many of the militia before they could get close. But even then more than enough made it through.

A good thirty or so smashed into our lines directly in front of my position. Smashing, slicing and thrusting at our ranks with swords and spears. Clubs made from broken table or chair legs. Pitchforks and boat-hooks. Anything but the kitchen sink was used as a weapon. Shields shattered under blows and steel rang like bells as it smashed against armor. I aimed high with my spear, stabbing over the shoulder of the trooper in front of me and catching his assailant in the neck.

“Thanks!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Eyes front!” I yelled back. “Don’t look away from the fight!”

It’s a slaughter. There’s simply no other word for it. Their charge was a foolish, desperate gambit. To this day I’m still not sure what they were trying to do, but we struck them down to a man.

I forced myself to look as my soldiers finished off the injured. This is my new reality, and these are the consequences of my orders, I cannot shy away from them.

The fire was running out of control now, I even heard some distant explosions. Probably stores of flammables like oil.

“I hope you don’t plan to order an advance.” Said Greenscale, appearing by my side.

“Into that inferno to sweep the streets? Do I look like an idiot to you?” I scoffed. “We can comb through the ruins for survivors once the flames burn themselves out.”

“Maybe you are cut out to lead after all.” He replied with his usual smirk.

“Or maybe I’ll order just you to advance. You are our self proclaimed best scout after all.” I deadpanned, which only made him grin more.

“My humblest apologies, my lord.” he mock simpered, grin never leaving his face.

We held position, letting the fire do the grisly work for us as it spread ever closer to the center of town. There was a distinct scent in the air now, kind of sickly sweet almost.

“The stink of burning flesh.” Greenscale remarked when he caught me sniffing the air.

The realisation was almost enough to make me puke. A shout from one of the troops drew my attention, and I turned to face the direction they pointed. A small figure stumbled towards us. Silhouetted against the flames that were consuming the town. The troops around me raised their weapons, only to wait as the figure drew near.

Once more, fear grabbed me by the throat.

It was a boy. A small fish boy. Covered in soot.

“What do we do with him, sire?” one of the men asked.

I looked at him, and my fear became reality.

I could see it in his eyes. Hatred. Hatred for the one who destroyed his family, his life, his world. He would grow up nursing that hatred, and one day, many years from now he will act on that hatred. He might not raise an army against me, or become a great fighter and challenge me. But he will act. Maybe leave a door unlocked at a critical moment. Maybe leave a message out to be found. Or pass on a tiny bit of gossip to the wrong ears, and I will be undone.

Evil Overlord rule number one-hundred-thirty: If I decide to destroy an entire town, I will remember to kill any children who would grow up to seek revenge against me.

I looked at the troops near me, waiting for my word. I turned away from the town. Away from the boy.

A dark doorway looms before me.

“I said no survivors.” The lack of hesitation in my voice surprised me.

With those words I stepped through, into the darkness. Behind me, crossbows twanged, and the doorway slammed shut.

"Iacta alea est.” the die is cast.

There is no going back.